ed, but those of which He
had never been suspected. Being interrogated as to Matilda's flight
which had created much confusion, He confessed that She had sold
herself to Satan, and that She was indebted to Sorcery for her escape.
He still assured his Judges that for his own part He had never entered
into any compact with the infernal Spirits; But the threat of being
tortured made him declare himself to be a Sorcerer, and Heretic, and
whatever other title the Inquisitors chose to fix upon him. In
consequence of this avowal, his sentence was immediately pronounced.
He was ordered to prepare himself to perish in the Auto da Fe, which
was to be solemnized at twelve o'clock that night. This hour was
chosen from the idea that the horror of the flames being heightened by
the gloom of midnight, the execution would have a greater effect upon
the mind of the People.

Ambrosio rather dead than alive was left alone in his dungeon. The
moment in which this terrible decree was pronounced had nearly proved
that of his dissolution. He looked forward to the morrow with despair,
and his terrors increased with the approach of midnight. Sometimes He
was buried in gloomy silence: At others He raved with delirious
passion, wrung his hands, and cursed the hour when He first beheld the
light. In one of these moments his eye rested upon Matilda's
mysterious gift. His transports of rage were instantly suspended. He
looked earnestly at the Book; He took it up, but immediately threw it
from him with horror. He walked rapidly up and down his dungeon: Then
stopped, and again fixed his eyes on the spot where the Book had
fallen. He reflected that here at least was a resource from the fate
which He dreaded. He stooped, and took it up a second time.

He remained for some time trembling and irresolute: He longed to try
the charm, yet feared its consequences. The recollection of his
sentence at length fixed his indecision. He opened the Volume; but his
agitation was so great that He at first sought in vain for the page
mentioned by Matilda. Ashamed of himself, He called all his courage to
his aid. He turned to the seventh leaf. He began to read it aloud;
But his eyes frequently wandered from the Book, while He anxiously cast
them round in search of the Spirit, whom He wished, yet dreaded to
behold. Still He persisted in his design; and with a voice unassured
and frequent interruptions, He contrived to finish the four first lines
of th